Watch the origin of money playing out in real-time in Cyprus

Credit-backed money could be passed around the nation after the implementation of capital controls.

The origins of money are frequently fought over. Classical economics textbooks frequently cite the idea of a barter economy switching to money for the efficiency gains. Adam Smith, in 1776, was well aware of the problems with barter economies, writing that:

One man, we shall suppose, has more of a certain commodity than he himself has occasion for, while another has less. The former consequently would be glad to dispose of, and the latter to purchase, a part of this superfluity. But if this latter should chance to have nothing that the former stands in need of, no exchange can be made between them.

The problem is, that didn't happen. David Graeber's book Debt: The First 5000 Years contains a pretty thorough demolition of the idea, noting that no anthropologist ever has found a pre-monetary society which operates a barter economy in that fashion. A few societies which have lost money for other reasons have reverted to barter, but that's a whole different thing.

Instead, Graeber writes, money arose from debt. Its first role is as a unit of account, a way of tabulating that the person who you lent a cow owes you something; then, as the amount of outstanding debt in society grows, those IOUs become tradable, and eventually standardised. You can even see that on British bank notes – they are, strictly speaking, promissory notes, representing not a sum of money, but a sum of debt. "I promise to pay the bearer, on demand…" reads the text on the front.

And now, as David Keohane excerpts over at FT Alphaville, we could be seeing that route to money creation re-occurring in Cyprus. Citi's William Buiter writes that the capital controls imposed on the country:

Will, if they persist for more than a few weeks, likely lead to a search for alternative media of exchange for internal transactions. IOUs of large, respected enterprises could for example be countersigned and start to circulate more widely as media of exchange and means of payment. This was the case, for instance, during the 1970 bank strike in Ireland, uncleared cheques were made negotiable (like bills of exchange) and pubs and shops served as credit verifiers. These could later develop into more full-fledged parallel currencies, if internal euro liquidity in Cyprus remains very scarce.

It's also another example of how private money creation – à la Bitcoin and so many other initiatives – isn't that new or trendy at all. But the problem for groups of citizens making their own private money is that eventually they have to contend with a government.

That's not, as some of the more alarmist bitcoiners and goldbugs would have it, because the Government comes in and seizes your money if you start to rival its power. (That said, most countries do have laws on the books preventing you from minting your own coinage.) It's the more prosaic matter of taxes.

Governments have the power to demand payment of taxes in whatever currency they want – and usually, the currency they control. So while private money might grow relatively sizeable in Cyprus, no matter how organised it gets, people will always need to hold onto euros – and Bitcoin is going to struggle to get a foothold as a "real" currency if you need to convert back to pounds every April to pay HMRC.

Still, one of the few fun things about living in these interesting times is that those of us who know basic economics get to watch our textbooks played out in front of us. Northern Rock was a bank run with real queues outside the front of the building; Bitcoin lets us have a more up-to-date example of a speculator's bubble than tulip madness; and now we're seeing the origin of money in real-time.

Photograph: Getty Images

Alex Hern is a technology reporter for the Guardian. He was formerly staff writer at the New Statesman. You should follow Alex on Twitter.

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The Women's March against Trump matters – but only if we keep fighting

We won’t win the battle for progressive ideas if we don’t battle in the first place.

Arron Banks, UKIP-funder, Brexit cheerleader and Gibraltar-based insurance salesman, took time out from Trump's inauguration to tweet me about my role in tomorrow's Women’s March Conservative values are in the ascendancy worldwide. Thankfully your values are finished. . . good”.

Just what about the idea of women and men marching for human rights causes such ill will? The sense it is somehow cheeky to say we will champion equality whoever is in office in America or around the world. After all, if progressives like me have lost the battle of ideas, what difference does it make whether we are marching, holding meetings or just moaning on the internet?

The only anti-democratic perspective is to argue that when someone has lost the argument they have to stop making one. When political parties lose elections they reflect, they listen, they learn but if they stand for something, they don’t disband. The same is true, now, for the broader context. We should not dismiss the necessity to learn, to listen, to reflect on the rise of Trump – or indeed reflect on the rise of the right in the UK  but reject the idea that we have to take a vow of silence if we want to win power again.

To march is not to ignore the challenges progressives face. It is to start to ask what are we prepared to do about it.

Historically, conservatives have had no such qualms about regrouping and remaining steadfast in the confidence they have something worth saying. In contrast, the left has always been good at absolving itself of the need to renew.

We spend our time seeking the perfect candidates, the perfect policy, the perfect campaign, as a precondition for action. It justifies doing nothing except sitting on the sidelines bemoaning the state of society.

We also seem to think that changing the world should be easier than reality suggests. The backlash we are now seeing against progressive policies was inevitable once we appeared to take these gains for granted and became arrogant and exclusive about the inevitability of our worldview. Our values demand the rebalancing of power, whether economic, social or cultural, and that means challenging those who currently have it. We may believe that a more equal world is one in which more will thrive, but that doesn’t mean those with entrenched privilege will give up their favoured status without a fight or that the public should express perpetual gratitude for our efforts via the ballot box either.  

Amongst the conferences, tweets and general rumblings there seem three schools of thought about what to do next. The first is Marxist  as in Groucho revisionism: to rise again we must water down our principles to accommodate where we believe the centre ground of politics to now be. Tone down our ideals in the hope that by such acquiescence we can eventually win back public support for our brand – if not our purpose. The very essence of a hollow victory.

The second is to stick to our guns and stick our heads in the sand, believing that eventually, when World War Three breaks out, the public will come grovelling back to us. To luxuriate in an unwillingness to see we are losing not just elected offices but the fight for our shared future.

But what if there really was a third way? It's not going to be easy, and it requires more than a hashtag or funny t-shirt. It’s about picking ourselves up, dusting ourselves down and starting to renew our call to arms in a way that makes sense for the modern world.

For the avoidance of doubt, if we march tomorrow and then go home satisfied we have made our point then we may as well not have marched at all. But if we march and continue to organise out of the networks we make, well, then that’s worth a Saturday in the cold. After all, we won’t win the battle of ideas, if we don’t battle.

We do have to change the way we work. We do have to have the courage not to live in our echo chambers alone. To go with respect and humility to debate and discuss the future of our communities and of our country.

And we have to come together to show there is a willingness not to ask a few brave souls to do that on their own. Not just at election times, but every day and in every corner of Britain, no matter how difficult it may feel.

Saturday is one part of that process of finding others willing not just to walk a mile with a placard, but to put in the hard yards to win the argument again for progressive values and vision. Maybe no one will show up. Maybe not many will keep going. But whilst there are folk with faith in each other, and in that alternative future, they’ll find a friend in me ready to work with them and will them on  and then Mr Banks really should be worried.